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PRESENTED 



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BESIDE 



THE 



BLACKWATER 



BESIDE 

THE 

BLACKWATER 



BY 



NORREYS JEPHSON O'CONOR 

AUTHOR OF *' CELTIC MEMORIES" 



Cid 6n^ in fd at hard a a He acum acht so? 
Octis matd imdnter danih he co ndichins dia 
atrehh ocus da innaigidh. 

" What is that? have I another fatherland besidti. 

this ? 
And, if I have, let it be told to me that I jnay go to 
visit it and divell therein.'' 

Birth and Life of St. Moling. 



NEW YORK 
THE JOHN LANE COMPANY 






The Autlior thanks the Editors of the Century, 
Smart Set, and American-Scandinavian Review 
for permission to reprint poems that first 
appeared in their magazines. 



GUI 
Fubllshe? 



TO 

MY COMPANIONS 

BESIDE THE BLACKWATER 



FOREWORD 

A golden period of seven weeks^ I paused 
beside the Blackwater. And Love came to me 
wearing two forms ; that of Care, the care of a 
mother for her child ; and Youth, which under- 
stands^ and trusts, and places healing hands on 
green wounds. Last of all^ Ireland herself, with 
her stretches of wonderful landscape, her storied 
past and potential futures. A portion of all 
these things, I have endeavoured to weave into 
the songs which follow, dedicated most fitly to 
you, my Companions beside the Blackwater. 



CONTENTS 




BESIDE THE BLACKWATER 




Ireland Revisited 


I 


Beside the Blackwater 


2 


Romantic Ireland 


4 


To THE Ulster Unionists 


8 


Retribution 


9 


The Evening Hour, Mallov7 


II 


On seeing the Deer at Mallow Castle 


13 


In the Rain 


15 


On the Study of Irish 


17 


The Courtship of Etain 


18 


The Fairy Bride 


19 


The Tryst 


24 


In Hope and Remembrance 


25 


A Plea for Immortality 


27 


Summer Morning 


28 


In the Train 


29 


In the Woods 


53 


Fairy Song 


31 


Parting 


33 


FROM FOREIGN SHORES 




From Foreign Shores 


35 


Over the Dunes 


38 


On Reading " Songs from Leinster " 


40 


Jacobite Song 


42 


Glenshee 


44 



Midsummer 


45 


By Sunset Shores 


46 


Variation on an Old Theme 


47 


Homecoming 


48 


Far Away 


50 


3NNETS AND SONGS 




Marriage Song 


52 


A Discovery 


54 


Summer Dawn 


55 


Fountains Abbey 


S7 


To A Child with a Copy of the 




Author's " Hansel and Gretel '* 


58 


Roger Ascham 


59 


With an Anthology of Verse 


60 


On Hearing the Pastoral Symphony 


61 


With a Photograph 


62 


To Peggy 


63 


During Music the Poet Dreams of 




Meeting his Lady 


64 


In the City he Remembers Past 




Summer Nights 


65 


In Your White Arms 


66 


To Jean Sibelius 


6r 


The Outcast 


68 


AUBADE 


70 


Reincarnation 


71 


Travel Song 


72 



IRELAND REVISITED 

Once more, O Erin, do I see thy hills 
Rising immutable above the sea, 
Rousing the love that everlastingly 

The hearts of thy far-scattered children fills. 

Several their duties, and yet one their wills ; 
To turn at last v^^ith tired steps to thee, 
And rest at evening in the mystery 

Of thy green mountains, fairy glens, and rills. 

I hear thy sons and daughters, homeward bound, 
Greet one another on the long-sought road ; 

What were there thoughts were their fair Mother 
found, 
Bent by the burden of another's load, 

Her speech disabl'd, her few helpers bound 
By the dull statutes of an aHen code ? 



BESIDE THE BLACKWATER 

With life forever old yet new, 
Changed not in kind but in degree 
The instant made eternity. 

— Robert Browning. 



I hear a young girl singing, 

Herself I cannot see : 
The twilight time is bringing 

Shadows and mystery. 

The clouds lie close together — 
Sheep folded for the night — 

True omens of the weather 
For him who reads aright. 

The patch of light is fading 
From Knockaroura's brow, 

Green trees and foliage shading 
Into the evening glow. 

A hungry trout is leaping 
In the dark, winding stream, 

Where low-bent trees are sweeping 
Waters that whirl and gleam. 



O wondrous hour of even, 
When all the world is peace ; 

Earth were exchanged for heaven, 
Could Time his passing cease ! 



ROMANTIC IRELAND 



Romantic Ireland^s dead and gone. 

W. B. Yeats. 



Romantic Ireland's dead and gone ; 
And yet the sunlight flecks the sea 
Where Oisin once rode wondrously 
With Niam to the other world. 



The gnarled tree guards the sleeping saint 
Of Inn isf alien's shady wood ; 
Where long the famous abbey stood, 
Now roofless, ruin'd, desolate. 



Above Lough Leane's placid breast, 
The curlew sounds his plaintive cry ; 
The colours of the western sky 
Are hidden in the deep of night. 

Beside Blackwater's shaded stream. 
The marsh rail feeds in solitude ; 
The mallard leads her little brood 
Across a shallow, shelter'd cove. 
4 



The jocund jackdaws flutter round 
The ivy-cover*d castle wall, 
That leans, as if at last to fall 
Beneath a weight of clinging vine. 

Above the blue of Dingle Bay, 
A line of misty mountain peaks ; 
And, southward, Macgillicuddy's Reeks, 
Crown'd by the cloud in Kerry skies. 

From out a bog in far Connaught, 
A snipe darts off in startPd flight, 
And hastens toward the edge of night, 
Now creeping round the cottage roof. 

Along the rocks of Glenariff, 

The river tumbles to the sea ; 

Beside the path, luxuriantly, 

Grow banks of shamrock, moss, and fern 

In ceaseless war, the ocean hurls 
His waves against the head at Bray ; 
When lo ! the billows melt away, 
A magic mist of silver tears. 

The grass still holds the morning dew, 
That makes the Irish hills a sheen 
Of vivid, unforgotten green, 
More lovely than a precious stone. 
5 



The pageant of the drifting clouds, 
Now white, now every shade of grey, 
Remains unchang'd, as yesterday, 
When monkish poets wrote their praise. 

The birds fly home at eventide, 
x4nd peace is folding hill and lea, 
Great shepherd of all things that be : 
And, yet, romantic Ireland's gone ? 



II 

In massy folios, closely writ, 
Live countless stories of the past, 
When Ireland's glory far surpass'd 
The honour won by knights of France. 

Here gleams the blue of ancient skies, 
Here glows the beauty of the sea ; 
Here sounds the woodland minstrelsy 
Heard by the bards in former times. 



Ill 

The scholar's lamp is burning late, 
He hears the voice of living men. 
And famous deeds are done again. 
While Oxford bells chime through the night. 
6 



Then far away, beside a park 
In my new college town, now old, 
The tales the Irish ollams* told. 
Are read beneath the study lamp. 

O Httle group of learned men, 

The lasting flame of Celtic lore 

Has lit my torch ; I go before. 

To flash your message through the world ! 

The clouds still circle Irish hills ; 
All Erin's lovers now would save 
The legends of the land of Maeve : 
Is, then, romantic Ireland gone ? 



* A title borne by the most learned men in ancient 
Ireland. 



TO THE ULSTER UNIONISTS 

As some skill'd craftsman of the long ago, 
Wrought the rich cover of a bishop's bell. 
Adorning it with figures that should tell 

Of Man's salvation by his Saviour's woe ; 

Or as the mason watch'd his building grow, 
Each stone with its near neighbours fitting well; 
The whole a rampart 'gainst the gates of Hell — 

God's fortress, garrison'd by men below : 

So would I build my humble shrine of song, 
Guarding the spirit of the Irish land, 
That all her children here may understand 

Her lofty hopes, her lasting fight with wrong. 
And, fill'd with love for her, may, hand in hand. 

Receive the right they have awaited long. 



RETRIBUTION 

Beside the stream where, haply, Spenser sang 
The wondrous wanderings of his " Faerie 
Queene," 
I thought of him* with whose fame England 
rang, 
Who once broad Munster's President had been. 

Perchance the poet and the soldier met 
Upon the river bank, to plan a raid 

On those wild Irish who, like fools, should fret 
At the fresh conquests by the English made. 

And yet we know the swiftly flowing stream, 
The hillsides, darken'd with the close of day, 

Have lent their beauty to the poet's dream : 
The song endures ; the scorner past away. 

But what of him, the soldier and the lord 
Of the fair fields where Desmond once held 
sway ; 

The broad demesne that was a queen's reward 
To him who kept the Irishmen at bay ? 

* Sir John Norris (or Norreys), to whom Spenser has 
addressed one of the introductory sonnets of the 
Faerie Queene. 



The years have pass'd, and still the river flows 
To its far haven in the unseen sea ; 

While, year by year, the Norreys holding grows 
More ruin'd by the pinch of poverty. 

Erin remains, unchanging, calm, and fair ; 

The dazzling mistress or the mourning wife 
Of those true lovers who have sought to share 

Her trials, and, by dying, give her life. 

She is eternal, and across her skies 
Flash the first signals of reviving day. 

Bright harbingers ! Her splendour shall arise 
To light a world, now darken'd, on Its way. 



10 



THE EVENING HOUR, 
MALLOW 



The kine are lowing in the verdant fields, 
The hills are mottl'd by the evening sun ; 
A few stray villagers are turning home 
From their short saunter by the riverside. 
A blue-frock'd girl slips by yon line of trees, 
A brilliant patch against a ground of green. 
She holds the open gate, and when I say 
My path must lead me homeward, straightway 

goes, 
Contented, toward the cottage close at hand, 
To tell her parents of a day's work done. 
The corn is stack'd in the broad golden field, 
The light grey clouds float past the summer 

sky; 
While rooks call gently in their huddl'd flight, 
Perching in pairs upon the lonely tower, 
Last outpost of the ruin'd castle wall. 

Erin ! how often have thy children found 
True peace of soul in this hush'd evening hour : 
Oscar and Oisin, Patrick and the brave 
VVho fought v^dth sword and pen to keep thy laws 
Ji 



And ancient customs in the dangerous days. 
O waiting World, is this expectant calm 
But rapture at the swift approach of night, 
Or wonder ere the dawning of a day 
That brings new glory to thy fairest isle ? 



12 



ON SEEING THE DEER AT 
MALLOW CASTLE 



The buds were blown on busb and tree, 

The birds their matins sang, 
And through the greenwood merrily 

The hunting music rang : 
The yelp of hounds, the silver horn, 

The hunter's deep halloo, 
As past the Conbeg, by briers torn, 

The stout stag leapt in view. 

Mad was the chase where Oisin came, 

With Oscar by his side ; 
And Finn, their father, Erin's fame, 

And he who won Finn's bride. 
Their cloaks flew free and far behind. 

Their spears shone in the sun ; 
The steeds had caught the morning wind, 

So swiftly did they run. 

Such was the picture Fancy drew, 
When, from my window wide, 

In the fenc'd park, a score or two 
Of grazing deer I spied. 
13 



Long since the hunting horn is still, 

No further need they fear 
The deep-mouth'd hounds, intent to kill, 

The huntsman with his spear. 

Erin is chang'd ; her hero names 

Are only heard in song : 
Scarce any man who proudly claims 

That Irish rule is wrong, 
Knows of his country's lasting lore, 

The story of her woes, 
Many and grievous since her shore 

Was sought by foreign foes. 



IN THE RAIN 

(Caragh Lake, County Kerry) 

Grey Caragh Lake lies in a mist of rain, 
The low clouds huddled round the lofty hills, 
As if protecting them from pain unknown, 
Unknowable. Shielded by hill and wood, 
The little house seems a pale ghost of summer, 
The wicker chairs upon the porch deserted, 
The rain-drenched garden with a few late flov>^'rs, 
Indoors, we sit before the tiny hearth, 
Talking of Erin and her many woes. 
Out through the rain-splashed casement to the 

west, 
We see the wind-born waves, and hear the wind, 
The autumn wind, hurl half a hundred drops 
Against the pane : as, in a winter storm. 
Wild birds are hurl'd against a beacon light 
And fall, defenceless, to the rocks below. 

About the top of Carintoul, the clouds 
Have lifted ; and their jagged undersides 
Make us more conscious of the dreary day, 
Presage in nature of this troublous time, 
When brother lights vdth brother for the fear 
Of something still untried, and so still dreaded. 
15 



We can but waft upon the sighing wind, 
Our prayers for Erin. Even as the sun 
Must light the waters of the leaden lake, 
So must all Ireland's children understand 
The living message of her mighty dead. 
That they may burn away the magic mist 
Wrought by ill-omened druids of the land ; 
The mist that hides fam'd Ulster from the south. 



i6 



ON THE STUDY OF IRISH 

In time-stain'd folios of the distant past?, 

, Were found the tales that I once read with thee, 
Of Patrick, Conor and the chivalry 

Who swore to fight for Ulster to the last. 

Here was Cuchulain, whose chariot flew so fast 
It caught the wind that blows from off the sea, 
Where Lir's four children swam in misery. 

For the harsh fury of the winter blast. 

I came to Erin, thinking there to find, 
Among her gentry, reverence for those 
Who anciently had overcome her foes. 

Instead, I found her heroes out of mind, 

And the rich language where their glory glows, 

" The hobby of some learned men and blind." 



17 



THE COURTSHIP OF ETAIN 

Love that endures beyond the bounds of death, 
Love that outlasts our little time of breath ; 
Linking our world to the great world of God, 
Who, Love Incarnate, our life's pathway trod : 
Here, in this tale of half-remember'd time, 
Forever burns the fire of love sublime. 
When mortal prince, loved by immortal maid, 
In mortal love found the all-sheltering shade 
Of Love Eternal, shed from Paradise 
Across the souls that love in any wise. 

O Etain ! thot^ art kin to her who gave 
Her godhead to the hero who could brave 
The ring of fire round the mountain height, 
And for Love's anger bring her Love's delight. 

The greatest master of immortal sound 
Has sung the joy that his Brunnhilde found : 
Thus, Etain, may my heartfelt praise of thee, 
Live with his song through Love's eternity! 



THE FAIRY BRIDE 

(The stranger tells his story to his host) 

I saw her first ride down the hill, 
Through heather and through fern ; 

She kept beside the little rill 
That laughs at every turn. 

Her fair hair fell below her waist, 

A plaything for the breeze ; 
The circlet round her brows was chas'd 

With wondrous pageantries. 

Her kirtle was a brilliant green, 

Her mantle shot with gold : 
She was more fair than the fair queen 

Whom Midir lov'd, of old. 

Her bridle, hung with, little bells, 

Made a sweet silver sound : 
Such music as, 'tis said, foretells 

A hidden fairy mound. 

She came to where I lay in grief, 

Beneath a spreading tree. 
" If thou wilt tell thy sorrow, chief, 

I'll find a remedy." 

19 



I told her of the weary years 

That I had pass'd in pain ; 
How I had left both kin and peers, 

The palace on the plain. 

" My harp hangs silent on the w^all, 

My hounds av/ait the horn 
That sounds the well-known starting call. 

Upon a hunting morn. 

" The druids, learn'd in ancient lore, 

Have said no king may reign 
Who bears the stamp of sickness sore, 

Till he be cured again. 

" My father sits in lonely state 

Upon high Tara's throne ; 
While I lie here, the pawn of Fate^ 

An exile from mine own." 

I look'd into the lady's eyes, 

And in their depths I saw 
Answers to riddles of the wise 

Long sought in books of law. 

" If thou wilt mount and ride," she said^ 

" Upon my steed with me, 
Past where yon mountain lifts his head 

In lasting majesty, 

20 



" I'll take thee to a distant land, 

Beside a placid sea ; 
Where cunning druids Understand 

Thy grave infirmity. 

" A three years' space must thou remain 

Upon the Plain of Light, 
Before thou may'st return again 

To glad thy father's sight." 

I look'd again into her eyes. 

And lo ! the love light there 
Touch'd all the hidden mysteries 

That in my being were. 

" O Love, how gladly will I ride 

Far out beyond the west. 
If thou wait there become my bride. 

And in these arms find rest ! " 

She smil'd. I took her hand and leapt 

Upon the dappl'd steed ; 
Toward the green-clad hill we kept, 

Across the pleasant mead. 

We rode straight on, and through the liill- 

The entrance lay conceai'd — 
To the veil'd sight of mortals will 

No fairy secret yield. 

21 



We came into a spacious plain, 

In the grey morning light. 
'Twas there I found my former pain 

First chang'd into delight. 

Far off, I saw a grove of trees, 

More fair than I have seen 
Upon the many lovely leas 

Of mine own Erin green. 

Faintly, I heard the ceaseless sound 

Of the low-singing sea : 
We hurried on, and straightway found 

The palace of Faery. 

A hundred damsels, dress'd in green, 

A hundred youths as fair, 
Soon led us to their king and queen, 

Thron'd in the palace there. 

Why should I tell the happy years 
That eas'd me of my pain ? 

Alas, the day I sought my peers 
In Erin, once again ! 

Full heavy was my heart to leave 
The wife whom I had won : 

How should I let my father grieve 
For a restored son ? 

22 



" Ah, Love, the world of men is chang'd : 

Go not from Fairyland ! 
Thy kinsmen now, from peace estrang'd. 

Have taken sword in hand. 

" And yet, if thou wilt surely go, 

My bugle horn with thee, 
And three loud blasts upon it blow, 

If thou would'st summon me." 

I came, and sought in vain the way 

To my proud father's hall : 
His deeds, a tale of yesterday, 

Hold a new age in thrall. 

I found thee, Friend, to solve at last. 

My life's great mystery ; 
How^ the glad years that I have pass'd. 

Three centuries should be. 

I thank thee for the food and mead — 
Three blasts I now have blown : 

I wait to hear the trampling steed, 
The voice I long have known. 

She comes ! and now the weight of years 

Falls from the aged world ; 
As when the morning sun appears, 

Where hills are mist-encurl'd. 
23 



THE TRYST 

Sweetheart, will you be waiting 

Beside the wicket gate ? 
To-night we must be mating, 

To-morrow leave to Fate ; 

For we must go to-gether, 

Far, far away from here ; 
Through fair and boist'rous weather, 

If skies be dark or clear. 

To-morrow we must travel 

Across the western sea ; 
So shall we best unravel 

Love's endless mystery. 

Sweetheart ! you will be waiting 

Beside the v^dcket gate. 
To-night we must be mating, 

To-morrow leave to Fate. 



24 



IN HOPE AND REMEM- 
BRANCE 

And God stands winding His lonely horn, 
And time and the world are ever in flight. 

W. B. Yeats. 

We drifted away in the distance, 
Through the cold September rain ; 

You in the carriage for New Ross, 
And I in the Kerry train. 

The clouds hung low on the hill-tops, 
The fields lay dreary and green ; 

And dun were the bits of bogland, 
With the rain-soak'd road between. 

Sad was the heart in my bosom ; 

More sad than the desolate day, 
When Nature seem'd sharing the sorrow 

I had for your going away. 

Gaunt were the trees at the Castle, 
(The lime trees that shadow the drive) 

With a glimpse of sky through the branches 
And leaves that yet linger'd alive. 
25 



You have gone from the place where I knew 
you — 

The ocean must keep us apart — 
But the sight of you Hngers forever 

In the shrine I have made of my heart ; 

While Time goes steadily reaping, 

And binding the sheaves of the years ; 

Binding with bands of pleasure 
The harvest we water'd with tears. 

Yet swift is the passing of seasons, 
And soon will the new summer be, 

When you come over the channel, 
And I come over the sea. 

We'll go to the rock and the river — • 

The Blackwater, rapid and dark ; 
Come home by the path through the woodland^ 

The path by the deer in the park. 

And Love will then grant us a vision 

Of joy above sorrow and tears ; 
And God will look down from His heav'n, 

And Time cease reaping the years. 



26 



A PLEA FOR IMMORTALITY 

Let me sing but one song of love 

To your grey Irish eyes, 
That in the coming years may prove 

Full of new melodies. 

So shall your charms forever be 

Known in your native land, 
That all who learn love's mystery 

May sing and understand. 



27 



SUMMER MORNING 

This fresh September morning, 
With light clouds in the sky, 

The rooks on tree and tower 
Are cawing cheerily. 

This fairest morn in Erin, 
Since I have crossed the sea ; 

May it bring hope and gladness, 
New faith and purity. 

May my new friendship prosper, 

And link me closer still 
To the country of my fathers, 

Land of the green -clad hill. 

May I have strength to conquer 
The sharp assaults of pain, 

And every subtle weakness 
That tempts my soul again. 

Then, with new strength and vigor, 

I may re-cross the sea. 
And gain my life's best blessing. 

My love has kept for me ! 



28 



IN THE TRAIN 

{The Nun watches a Mother and Chili) 

She looks, she smiles ; then turns away to try 
And tell her beads and pray to God on high. 
The happy mother gives her yearning breast 
To the glad babe, who drinks and Hes at rest. 
Daughters of Christ ! which may His Mother be, 
The happy wife, or pale virginity ? 



29 



IN THE WOODS 

You were a pool in shadow, 

And I was a beam of light : 
You took me to your bosom, 
I quiver'd with delight. 

You were a pool in shadow. 
And I was a beam of Hght. 

You were a pool in shadow. 

And I was a hunted deer : 

You gave me sweet refreshment. 

And eas'd my heart of fear. 

You were a pool in shadow, 
And I was a hunted deer. 

You were a pool in shadow. 

And I was a lofty tree 
That kept you with my branches 
From the sun's audacity. 

You were a pool in shadow, 
And I was a lofty tree. 

You were a girl in sorrow, 

And I was a man in pain : 
You brought me love and friendship, 
And gave me hope again. 

You were a girl in sorrow, 

And I was a man in pain. 

30 



FAIRY SONG 

The fairies are brushing 

The Jew from the grass, 
With dancing feet, 

As they gaily pass 
To the httle hollow 

Behind the hill. 
With its silver trees, 

Expectant, stiU, 
And the moon unveiling 

Her youthful head ; 
While mortal folk 

Lie safe abed. 
See yonder troop 

On fairy steeds, 
A ripple of Hght 

Across the meads, 
Where new-blown flowers 

Are fast asleep, 
And only fairies 

May vigil keep ! 
Now follow footmen 

With fairy spears, 
That flash as bright 

As shining tears 
Which fill with gladness 

A flower's eyes, 
31 



When, after night, 

The sun doth rise. 
Then, Nanc^, come 

Across the sea 
To gladden Granny, 

And gladden me ; 
And I shall lead you 

From Mallow's stream 
Far over the hills, 

The hills of dream ! 



32 



PARTING 

The ship lies waiting by the Irish shore, 
To bear me far across the tranquil sea, 

Back to a busy world, a city's roar, 
The whirl of ceaseless Hfe that summons me, 

I leave you in the keeping of the hills, 
The Irish hills, that in the evening hght 

Grow dark and sad ; yet when a new sun fills 
The world are with a hundred colours bright. 

May they now guard you ; give you of their peace 
In the sad moments that may cloud your hfe ; 

Make you more certain of a sure release 
From trouble undeserv'd, unceasing strife. 

May I return to this new world of mine 

Strong in your friendship, buoyed by your love, 

Trusting the wisdom of my Lord's design, 
That gives in you His Comfort from above. 

Song ! find the dwelling where my Lady is ; 

Bring her new knowledge of her native land, 
Of Nature and her baffling mysteries. 

That she may learn, and love, and understand. 



33 



FROM FOREIGN SHORES 

Chine tire adamri 
at a congnusi cadli 
asa rodarc find fia 
ni frithid bid a cia. 

" A beauty of a wondrous land. 
Whose aspects are lovely, 
Whose view is a fair country. 
Incomparable is its haze" 

The Voyage of Bran. 



35 



FROM FOREIGN SHORES 

Over the ocean to Erin, 

And over the hills to Clare, 

Where Moira will be walking 
In the star-clad evening air. 

The April moon is shining 

Across the rippling sea : 
From the beach below the garden, 

The wavelets' minstrelsy. 

The first faint breeze of springtime 
Has blown my Moira's hair, 

And brought to her my longing 
To walk beside her there. 

How well do I remember 

The grey October morn 
I left the straggling village 

Where she and I were born. 

She drove me, still and silent, 

To the train, and waved goodbye : 

A mist filled all the landscape 
The train went rushing by. 

36 



Fve been a year and over 

Amid the city's din, 
Where walls of steel and granite 

Have hemmed my spirit in. 

I've joined a hive of v^orkers 

In the country of the free ; 
But a slave in ancient Erin 

Enjoyed more liberty. 

The blue sky lay above him, 

With its drift of changing cloud ; 

And the grass lay soft beneath him, 
While the cattle gently lovved. 

My spirit flies to Erin, 

And escapes the prison bars, 

To walk beside my Moira 

In the springtime, 'neath the stars. 

God grant she feels my presence, 

As she walks above the sea ; 
And, perchance, her sight grows dimmer, 

When she breathes a prayer for me. 

I must turn again to labor, 

To win my crock of gold, 
That I may be vdth Moira, 

When I know she's growing old ; 
37 



And our youngest child has left us, 
To bring our name renown ; 

And the winter storm is passing, 
While the lamp is dying down. 

'Tis glad will be my Moira, 

When I come to make her mine ; 

Lord Desmond's youngest daughter 
And the pride of all his line. 

Over the ocean to Erin, 

And over the hills to Clare, 

My bride beside me walking 
In the star-clad evening air ! 



3b 



OVER THE DUNES 

Over the dunes the ducks are flying. 
And the sea breeze brings their gentle crying 
Over the dunes. 

Out where the sea's white hair is blowing, 
The long dark line of ducks is going 
Over the dunes. 

The leafless trees are straight and spare ; 
The sea is singing an ancient air 
Over the dunes. 

The marsh lies lone and dun and still ; 
The fine sand foUows the wind's will 
Over the dunes. 

A gang of geese comes from the south, 
And heads the marsh at Mill Creek mouth, 
Over the dunes. 

My heart is glad for an open place — 
The sea, and the sky, and the infinite space 
Over the dunes. 

My heart is glad for the things that are ; 
And yet I long for a land afar, 
Over the dunes : 

39 



A land where clouds of silver grey 
Circle the hilltops far away 
Over the dunes. 

The sight of all in the world most fair, 
Is the Irish land in the evening air, 
Over the dunes. 

Turning my back to the silent sea, 
I go where the house lights summon me 
Over the dunes. 

In the garden walk, by the patch of fern, 
A fair-haired girl waits my return 
Over the dunes. 

Sing her the song my lone heart sings, 
Wild duck flying with beating wings. 
Over the dunes ; 

Over the dunes the ducks are fiying. 
And the sea breeze brings their ge?itle crying 
Over the dunes. 



40 



ON READING "SONGS FROM 
LEINSTER" 



You have brought me a breath of the Irish land 

when I was far away ; 
On the wind of song the scent is come of the 

new grass and the hay, 
The peat-bog tying, bleak and lone, beneath the 

drifting grey. 



I have caught a sight of Dublin town in the cold 

November rain, 
When poor folk crowd the public bars to " drink 

a drop " again. 
And the children play in the muddy street, as 

if 'twere a grassy plain. 



I have felt the throb of a heart that longs for 

the distant Irish land, 
With faith that those who are left behind still 

love and understand, 
Though life has shattered their fondest hopes, 

and every joy they plann'd. 
41 



Oh, would our songs could set at rest all talk of 

civil war, 
And summon Erin's children home, where now 

they wander far 
From the lovely glens of Antrim, and the Caragh 

at Glencar ! 



42 



JACOBITE SONG 

The kine are in the lowland, the sheep are on 

the hill ; 
Winter's white bonds have fallen from mountain 

rock and rill. 

■An eagle floats in grandeur above the valley 

wide ; 
The broad blue field of heaven with pure white 

cloud is pied. 

The joyful song of labor comes from the furrow'd 
field; 

While blossoms blown at daybreak their spring- 
time odours yield. 

The summons of the pibroch is ringing down 

the glen, 
And glad are all the clansmen in gathering again. 

m buckle on my broadsword and go to join 
the clan. 

To fight once more for Scotland and the love 
of Lady Ann. 

43 



Mayhap I'll have to journey to join the Prince 

in France — 
'Tis well the maids of Paris can lead me through 

a dance ! 

But I'll come back to Scotland when heather is 

in bloom, 
Unless, far off, in battle I find a sterner doom. 

My lady will be waiting to go to church with me^ 
And Hve the wife of Alan, lord of the north 
count tie. 



44 



GLENSHEE 

{Fairy Glen) 

Love ! I had thought you far away, 
Until I woke the other night, 

To see you clearly, as the day 
I left you in the evening light. 

Your dark hair was unbound, as when 
A queen in a forgotten time, 

You came to meet me down the glen, 
And took me to your fairy clime. 

The sorrows of the fruitless years 
That I have lived, lay in your eyes ; 

With understanding of the tears 
That I have shed, in growing wise. 

Your hands, outstretch'd, awaited mine ; 

Your lips, half parted, sought to say : 
" Love is the thread that shall entwine 

Past hours with those that are to-day.'' 

Dear ! should I lie awake to-night, 
Come once again to comfort me ; 

And let me know Love lends me sight 
Undimm'd by the dividing sea ! 

45 



MIDSUMMER 

There's a patch of purple heather 

On a hillside that I know, 
And to-night's the bonny weather 

When the tiny buds will blow. 

Below the hill, the moorland Hes, 
A green and changing sea ; 

And through the moor the river flies. 
Singing to memory. 

There's a patch of purple heather, 
'Neath a cloud-screen'd azure sky ; 

And 'tis there, in ev'ry weather, 
That I long at last to lie ! 



46 



BY SUNSET SHORES 

By sunset shores I overlooked 

A blue, untroubled sea, 
And legends of the long ago 

Slowly came back to me. 

I thought of Lir and his great grief ; 

Of Etain, fairy wife, 
And Conor, king of chivalry ; 

Cuchulain, great in strife ; 

Of Deirdre, fairer than the stars 
That watch'd her, hand in hand 

With Noise, on a summer night, 
Walk on the silver strand. 

By sunset shores I sat, and gaz'd 

Across the changing west 
To where you were. Ah, how I wish'd 

My head lay on your breast ! 



47 



VARIATION ON AN OLD 
THEME 

Breo or da oiblech — 
In chroeb co m-blathaib 

(Flame, golden, gleaming — • 
Branch with blossoms). 

Ultan^s Hymn to Bridget. 



Sweet branch, with its blossoms in May- time, 
Sweet song of the bird to heF mate ; 
Flame bright as the sun in the day-time, 
Heart free of contempt and of hate : 
These things are yet but the essence 
Of that which I know you to be ; 
For I still feel the glow of your presence 
Shine over the leagues of the sea. 



48 



HOMECOMING 

Foaming, the bright brook flew 
Down the deep glen I knew. 
Over the hills. 

There 'twas my wont to float 
Many a tiny boat 

Over the hills ; 
Bearing sweet words of love, 
Brought to a quiet cove 

Over the hills ; 
Where sat a little maid 
I met when once I stray'd 

Over the hills. 

Too soon the dreaded day 
Came, when I marched away 

Over the hills. 
Years now have come and gone : 
Long since the wars are done, 

Over the hills. 

Past where she used to dream, 
Swift flows the sun-bright stream, 

Over the hills. 
What if black hair be grey. 
When Love has led the way 

Over the hills ! 
49 



FAR AWAY 

End of desire, and end of delight ! 
Over the ocean, sparkling and bright. 
Let me now follow the birds of the sea, 
Back to the land where my lady must be ; 
Bearing my love — a lamp fiU'd with fire- 
To the end of delight, and end of desire. 



50 



SONNETS AND SONGS 

To M. 

So were it rightly^ so shall it be 
Only, zuhile earth we 'pace together 
For the purpose apportioned you and me, 
Closer we tread for a common tether. 

Robert Browning. 



51 



MARRIAGE SONG 

{February 2^th, 1914) 

Come all ye rosy-finger'd Loves 
That serve in young Dan Cupid's train. 
Waken your pipes ; your drums and cymbals 
strike again ! 

Harness the car drawn by a team of doves ; 
Forget the snow upon this winter's day, — 
To us the snow-drifts seem deep banks of bloom 

in May. 

Attend ! because I hear the wedding chime 

Ring gently on the frosty winter air, 

And, swelling loud and louder, echo everywhere 

The gladness of this joyous time. 

When two young hearts are met 

Before Love's altar, and the Feast of Life is set. 

Attend ! ye deities of pagan days, 
As second only to our Sovran Lord, 
Who, with Love's service done, shall gjant us 
Love's reward. 

52 



Oh, may an echo of the hymn we raise 
From happy hearts, fall on the lov'd ones' ear, 
Who shared the hope and sorrow of each childish 
year ! 

Now they are gone ; the hurrying train 
Bears them toward new life, new ties, — 
Fulfilment of how many hidden mysteries ! 

The world is turning once again 

To toil ; but now Love's strength has won 

Two souls this day for Love's Immortal Son. 



S3 



A DISCOVERY 

The world is changed since I first looked 

Into your eyes ; 
And the long, sordid city street 

Transfigured lies. 

Oh, let me, then, forever gaze, 

That I may be 
Changed by your love, vi^hich makes this world 

Eternity ! 



54 



SUMMER DAWN 

He : " Sweet, will you wait a while, 
One little hour, 
Till the dawn comes again, 
A rosy flow'r ? " 

She : " Hushed lies the whirling world ; 
Out on the lawn 
Chirps now a sleepy bird, 
Greeting the dawn." 

He : " All through the summer night, 
Held by my arm, 
You lay with hair unbound. 
Throbbing and warm." 

She : " Far off the twinkHng Hghts 
Fade one by one : 
Pale grow the lamps of God, 
Waiting the sun." 

He : " O night of love and youth, 
Fleeing so fast ; 
Could but this time of bhss 
Eternally last ! " 
55 



She : " See now the lusty sun, 
Tingeing the skies ; 
So, beyond hills of pain, 
New joy shall rise." 



S6 



FOUNTAINS ABBEY 

How often, through this fair and verdant vale 
Came weary pilgrims to the abbey door, 
Returning to their native land once more 

To glad the monks with many an eastern tale. 

Perchance, adventuring beyond the pale 

Of Sherwood Forest, Robin Hood, who swore 
To strip all monks of their ill-gotten store, 

Here levied tribute with his men in mail. 



See now the desolation Time has wrought : 
The vaulted roof, by stately piers upborne, 

Has vanish'd ; while a few wild birds have brought 
New hymns of praise to greet the sun at morn, 

And, with their twittering, keep away the thought 
Of men forgotten and a church forlorn. 



57 



TO A CHILD 



WITH A COPY OF THE AUTHOR S 
" HANSEL AND GRETEL" 



Here, Nancy, let me take your hand, 
And lead you back to Fairyland, 
In this fam'd tale of long ago. 
Told often in the sunset glow 
By mothers, lest their children roam 
In the dark forest, far from home. 
This lesson learn : that mothers know 
Where lurks, perchance, a hidden foe ; 
And though you may not understand 
The reason in each kind command. 
It is to keep you from the fear 
That terrified the children here. 
Learn, too, how God's own angels keep 
Your ways by day, your dreams, asleep. 



S8 



ROGER ASCHAM 

{On seeing his miniature) 

Bending in thought, Elizabethan sage, 

The limner caught you for all future time ; 
The pensive pose, the far-off look sublime, 

Schoolmaster of an earlier, blither age. 

Your books have vanished ; from the printed page 
The song of birds, whenas the day's at prime, 
Has lured your thoughts ; no longer learned 
rhyme 

Delights you more than Springtide's glad presage. 

The casement open, through the window blows 
The first faint whisper of the April breeze, 

That rustles in the hawthorn bush which grows 
Beside your cottage ; in the spacious trees 

Murmurs amid the branches as it goes, 

" Come to the country all, and take your ease !' 



59 



IN AN ANTHOLOGY OF 

VERSE 

The lovelv words of many famous men 

Live in this book ; 
But fire from source more fair than mine, FU 
swear, 

None ever took. 

Thus, Lady, do I add my humble praise 

To theirs, more high ; 
That, your worth known, my Hnes, like theirs, 
may live 

And never die ! 



60 



ON HEARING THE PASTORAL 
SYMPHONY 

Spring ! and a thousand blossoms burgeoning ; 

The flying brook bounds toward the out- 
spread lea, 

Beneath the rugged mountain's majesty ; 
While joyous birds lift up their heads and sing. 
The world is all a gentle murmuring, 

Main theme of Nature's mighty symphony, 

That bids all creatures, wheresoe'er they be, 
Know joy, and hope, and love are everything. 

Master of music ! thou hast learnt the tune 
Of all things ; sung to men as fair a song 
As young Lorenzo said did once belong 

To the pale stars, when, on a night in June, 
He sat with Jessica the trees among, 

Beneath the glory of a springtide moon. 



6i 



WITH A PHOTOGRAPH 

If you must hang my picture on the wall, 

Forget me ! 

Vd rather stav 

Lock'd in the treasury of my Lady's heart, 

That I might bear a part 

In giving life to loveliness. 

Yet keep my picture'd self ; for it may be 

An image, 

Like that which stands 

Far down a church, and leads my Lady's eyes 

To the true Self, which Hes 

Forever lost in loveliness. 



62 



TO PEGGY 

{On her eighth birthday) 

Could I turn back the intervening years, 

And be once more with you just eight years old 
Upon the threshold of the age of gold, 

When life a round of pleasant days appears ! 

I cannot live again this happy time, 

But must content me from the farther side 
Of shady forests, meadows fair and wide. 

To wish you godspeed and complete my rhyme 



63 



DURING MUSIC 

{The Poet dreams of meeting his Lady) 

O loveliest Lady of this lovely land, 

I hear the chords that sweep across the strings 

In the Andante where Beethoven brings 
The peace of Love to all who understand. 
Here for a time we wander, hand in hand, 

Beneath the clouds that spread their soft 
grey wings 

Above the snow-clad trees, the frozen springs 
That wait the touch of the Awakener's wand. 

The wand of Spring, now making all things new, 
Even as this music makes us grow more strong 
To love and hope, although despair last long. 

And the glad moments of our life be few ; 
Yet peace shall come when Love hath 
vanquish'd Wrong, — 

Such was the strain the dauntless trumpets blew 



64 



IN THE CITY 

{He rememhers past smnmer nights) 

Come dance 

To the tune 

Love, night, and desire, 

The smouldering fire 

Of pent-up delight. 

The wind 

Falls asleep ; 

In caves of the sea 

The \oYsi melody 

Of murmuring waves. 

The earth 

Is forgotten : 

The light from the town. 

The dancing, will drown 

All thought of the night. 



65 



IN YOUR WHITE ARMS 

In your white arms I'd lay me down 
And dream the world away : 
The passion, pain, the trivial care, 
The fever'd brain, the grev despair — 
I'd lose them all ; ave, they would go, 
In your white arms. 

Oh, your white arms are like the foam 
That curls across a wave, 
And they would shield me from the pain 
Of present things, and bring again 
The joy I knew ; for I could rest 
In your white arms. 

In your white arms Pd find the bliss 
The souls in Heaven know, 
And dream the dreams that men of old 
Once fought for ; on a ground of gold 
Great painters painted. Dreams were true 
In vour white arms ! 



6G 



TO JEAN SIBELIUS 

{Ofi hearing his second symphony) 

O wondrous blossom of the northern world ! 
Now, winter over, thou hast burst in song : 
The mournful melodies of winter's wrong 

Miied with the scorn upon thy people hurPd. 

Thou singer of the woe of all mankind, 
I, too, can share thy passion and thy pain 
That lust of pleasure and the lure of gain 

Besmirch God's children and then leave them 
blind. 



67 



THE OUTCAST 

" Clarice," she said her name was ; 

" Born at Killiney — ^thats out Dublin way.'^ 

Her hat was blue ; her jersey grey": 

She was fair Ireland personified. 

Her hair was light, and curled ; 
Her blouse a trifle dirty ; but her air 
Made me forget the blemish there 
In a glad sense of jauntiness and youth. 

Her voice was pleasant too, 

With just a hint of roughness, and her laugh 

Scarce let me realise that half 

Of what she said was meant to lure me on. 

Yes, honest women frown 

If I suggest her shameful, sordid trade ; 

And yet, I think she'd not have said 

A single word with the intent to wound. 

And she had travelled too ; 

Had been to India, and the lovely clime 

Where mariners of olden time 

Sailed their frail ships in quest of argosies. 

68 



The social order sneers, 

" Perchance at first Love led her the wrong 

way." 
I wonder what Our Lord would sa,y, 
If He should write once more upon the 

sand ? 



II 



Everlasting Love ! 

1 here beseech Thee, let Thy daughter see 
That ev'ry path may lead to Thee, 
Despite the windings that obscure the way. 

Where will Thy message be : 
In the wild turmoil of the city street, 
Or where the woodbine scent is sweet — 
In the glad country, in the summertime ? 

Perchance a memory 

Of hills forgotten twenty years ago, 

And one beside her singing low, 

May bring her back to perfect rest with Thee I 



69 



AUBADE 

C'est le jour 
De Tamour ; 
Notre asile 
Si tranquille. 

Les oiseaux 
Gais et beaux ; 
Chaque rose 
Toute eclose. 

C'est bien i'aube, 
Quand ta robe 
Briile au coin 
Du jardin. 

Jour supreme, 
Quand on aime ; 
C'est le temps 
Du printemps ! 



70 



REINCARNATION 

Joyless, I sat above a darken'd sea, 
Even as Odysseus sat long years ago 
And yearned to flee from lovely Calypso, 

No match, he deemed, for sweet Penelope. 

Not less did Oisin pine once more to be 

Enticed beyond where ships could sail or row. 
To the fair plain where countless flowers grow 

Through the long springtime of Eternity. 

Eager as these famed men in ancient lore, 
But still more blest, because to-day 

Restores the loveliness that lived before 
Over the turbid ocean's watery way, 

With mortal men upon some fairy shore — 
Now may I love more ardently than they ! 



TRAVEL SONG 

Over the brov^^ of the hill, 
Let us go to-gether ; 

If luck be good or ill, 

Gold or grey the weather. 

Look ! the road is stretching 
Underneath the trees ; 

Hark ! a brook is humming 
Tinkling melodies. 

What the long road's ending ? 

What to-morrow's weather ? 
Small matter to us treading 

All the road to-gether. 



72 



